


Gritted Teeth is Not a Smile

by Tarn_Liberated



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet, Brothels, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Groping, Past Abuse, Slavery, Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarn_Liberated/pseuds/Tarn_Liberated
Summary: Hot Rod was supposed to make it big. He had his goal set to the stars and he knew he would get there eventually. This was just...one of the trials he had to overcome to get there. Working at the House as an 'entertainer' wouldn't be forever.When a new inspector arrives to make sure the House is satisfactory and all of the workers are happy, Rodimus is chosen for questioning and is reminded for a fleeting moment that life doesn't have to be like this.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Gritted Teeth is Not a Smile

**Author's Note:**

> There are no explicit or graphic details of non-con touching or anything otherwise but I felt it was appropriate to tag it even if it's mentioned briefly. 
> 
> It was supposed to be Part One of a series I was working on but once again I knew better than to start a multichapter fic when I'm already working on another. Hopefully I do get to come back to this one though because I have good portions of it written and I want Rodimus to get the happy ending he deserves.

Hot Rod had expected one of the lesser known inspectors to stop by as they always had. His boss would send his best entertainer and after a little talk they would be given an acceptable grade for their business and free visitations for a month. Hot Rod had never been picked for the coercion, he was still considered new to this House and there were many other dancers and smooth-talkers here that would do a better job than he at giving a processor-blowing interface to trick the bot into giving them a high score.

Not to say that Hot Rod wasn’t moving up in the entertainment world, sadly to say. He didn’t want to be here but this was where he was stuck at until further notice. So he’d do his job, obey his boss, and spread his legs for whoever wanted him. He had big plans for the future and this was merely a bump in the road, he wouldn’t stay here forever. He’d get out of here soon. He knew it.

There was a hush in the room when a massive enforcer stepped through the front doors. Blue and red, smokestacks on either side of his helm, armor stacked on armor with large servos that curled into fists, the mech slowly scanned the customers and guards. His plating was spotless, impeccably shined with high-grade wax and bright blue optics signified his health. Hot Rod peered around the corner of the hallway to gawk, glancing down at his own chipped paint caused by a customer that grew too rough for his liking. He was on his way to get a touch-up when a few of the nicer entertainers coaxed him back into hiding. Probably to avoid being spotted by whoever this was.

The mech pulled a datapad out of his subspace and scanned over the contents, addressing those that stopped around him. “Where is the owner of this…House?”

Hot Rod’s audial fins twitched at the perfectly enunciated words, said in such a way he let everyone know he was here for a reason. His boss, a short, thin, red mini, stepped forward and swept his hands to the side. The antennae on his back twitched madly when he asked the enforcer to follow him to his office.

“Who do you think he’s going to pick?” Asked one of the bots behind him.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t look like the type to bend the rules.”

“Many inspectors come here looking like that until you get them in the berth.”

“He looks like a noble.”

“He had the enforcer marking. That would mean he’s middle class right?”

Hot Rod toned them out and moved through the crowd slowly, the music a quiet hum in the background. He needed to get repainted, he was certain he had another client—customer— _ whatever _ —in a joor and he wanted to recharge before then.

“—that this is our busier joors, so pardon the mess.” His boss’ signature fake laugh struck Hot Rod right beside him. His head snapped to the side to see the red mini with a tight smile on his face, optics narrowing in warning. “I’ll take you to one of our vacant rooms so you can see how we keep the place clean—move  _ please _ —and find out who’s off the clock so you can speak with them.”

Hot Rod quickly darted back and pressed himself against the wall, his boss glaring at how fast he scrambled out of the way. Now that he was closer, Hot Rod felt small. The hulking mech wasn’t looking at him, his optics were on two femme’s manhandling one of the dancers who looked uncomfortable but hid it decently. His eyes narrowed in disgust and a tiny spark ignited in Hot Rod’s chassis.

“This way, sir.” His boss mouthed something scathing at him and walked the newcomer toward one of the rooms in the back. Probably one that hasn’t been used in solar cycles, Hot Rod thought bitterly, they always take the enforcers to one specific room no matter what House he lived in.

The mech stopped, however, and stared across the room to a dual set of doors to his left. “What is that way?”

“The stairwell that leads to the higher rooms.” His boss let out an airy laugh and waved his hand, “The staircase is for small and medium sized, not large frame types such as yourself. I fear it might be hard getting up the stairs so I thought one on ground level would suit you best.”

Hot Rod watched him slowly turn to eye the minibot and stepped toward the double doors. “I am sure I can manage.”

Watching the mech who treated him so rudely get scared was the highlight of Hot Rod’s cycle. “O-of course.” His fingers twitched madly and he whistled for his partner who sprinted down the hall a second later. “Are there any, ah, open rooms on the second floor?”

“Uh…” the blue femme gawked and shrugged. “I can check?”

“Please do, we have an  _ inspector _ here who needs a room to inspect.” She grimaced and returned down the hall, leaving his boss to calmly approach the enforcer who was waiting by the stairs. “Right this way.”

Hot Rod had never seen his boss so uncertain about himself. While he left, the mech lingered behind the doors leading to the other room and with a sideways glance, met optics with Hot Rod. Suddenly, he was walking towards him. The blue enforcer stood a few feet away and scanned him from helm to ped. “Are you currently busy?”

What was this about? Hot Rod wasn’t doing anything in particular to stand out. “No.”

“Would you mind coming with me to answer a few questions?”

Hot Rod swore internally, his spark thundering in its casing. He couldn’t interface with a mech like this! He had an appointment coming up and he still needed to be painted and he was so exhausted— 

“Sure.” Hot Rod bit his glossa and followed the enforcer to the third floor.

There, his boss stood in front of an open door. “Right this way. I’ll check to see who’s off…” he made a shooing motion with his servo at Hot Rod.

The hulking mech held up his hand and dipped his head, “I have asked this one for a moment of their time. Will that be a problem?”

“N…no. None at all.” He patted Hot Rod’s upper arm since he couldn’t reach his shoulder and squeezed the plating. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Hot Rod followed the enforcer inside and marveled at how clean it was, the rooms were never this clean in the other rooms. The mech was clearly too large to fit in the chairs and looking at the oddly colored floor he shifted his weight to remain standing. Now that it was just the two of them, Hot Rod could only guess what could happen. Bitterly, though expected, he was motioned to the berth.

Hot Rod gulped, this bot wasn’t messing around he wanted to get straight to business. He activated his lubrication, a nifty line of coding he got when he joined the business, one of many that helped him be decent at his job, and settled on the edge of the berth. He peered forward and eyed the white pelvic plating with suspicion. Maybe after this they would let him take the rest of the night off?

“My designation is Ultra Magnus and I am here to ask you a few questions about this House.” The lubrication process immediately went offline when he recognized the name. Surely, if rumors were to be believed, a bot holding such a close affinity to law and order wouldn’t take advantage of him. Right? Hot Rod crossed his legs subconsciously and nodded, struggling to make himself comfortable. As much as he wanted to believe the Magnus wouldn’t try anything he had seen more than enough scummy hands shake and optics turn away because of a few credits or a good aft.

The questions asked were simple, what he knew about the house, those that worked there, the guidelines and punishments that occurred when clients were being unruly. Hot Rod could handle these. He had worked there for about three stellar cycles so far, this was indeed one of their slower days but it was early enough that the richer bots came so they’d get tipped more.

About one joor later, Magnus threw him for a loop. “Are you being forced or otherwise to interface with those that enter, be it in any form or fashion?”

Hot Rod couldn’t find the words to speak and the mech watched him carefully. His coding buzzed disapprovingly. “No, sir. While interfacing is permitted, should the entertainers agree, if I don’t want to interface with anyone I am not forced to.” The words were bitter in his mouth, heavy with filth that muddled his vocalizer.

“So interfacing is permitted.” Magnus wrote something on the tablet and arched an optic ridge. “The House isn’t stated as having interface allowance.”

_ Frag me. _ Hot Rod shook his head, “I know nothing about that.” He was going to get punished tonight—unlike the others chosen he went into these questions blind. He didn’t know what to say other than the obvious.

“Have you, in the past or currently, been mistreated by your coworkers or higher officers?”

He would tonight. The loyalty coding answered for him with: “No, sir. They treat me as any worker would at a business.”

Something glimmered in the bots optics and he set the tablet into his lap. “Then what of the markings on your frame?”

Hot Rod glanced at the scuffs and dents along his sides and folded one long leg over the other to buy himself time. His arms crossed over his chest in a hug that could’ve been passed off as indifference. “Oh this? We had a visitor break the no-touching rule and followed me to the back.”  _ Where Hot Rod was forced to let him into a room where he bent over and let the mech frag him into the berth. _

“How did you handle the situation?”

_ I let him suck my spike. _ “I called for one of the guards and they took him away.” Hot Rod wanted to add: ‘ _ The guards don’t go into the back. They’re at the front and at the end of every hall. They’re ordered to not get involved.’ _

“Have you sought medical attention?”

_ ‘We don’t even have a medic at the House.’ _ “Not yet, I was going to later.”

Ultra Magnus wrote a long paragraph on his tablet and subspaced the device. Hot Rod cocked his head to the side, unsure if they were finished. He pulled up the lubrication coding just to be safe. “Are you happy here?”

Hot Rod’s spark tightened. No. No he was not happy—this wasn’t at all how it was supposed to go. Hot Rod had plans and ideas, he had hopes before this mess and he clung to them like a lifeline. That one single hope was the reason he didn’t dig into his body and tear out the tracking devices they shoved into him what felt like a millennia ago. He hated this place and how the people used him—

“You can be honest.” Ultra Magnus watched him carefully, powerful field extending outward to show Hot Rod his honesty and sincerity. “If they aren’t treating you properly or if they’re making you say these things you can tell me. I am here because the Council wanted to fix Cybertron, starting small. Houses like these seem to bring in the most credits but they also contain badly abused citizens who are in need of help. You will not be punished if you tell me now. If everything here,” he removed the tablet from before and showed Hot Rod the blinking form with most answers filled and notes tagged on the side. “Is a lie we can start again. The only disappointment I will have is seeing that you and others were forced to do this.”

Hot Rod wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to be out of this place and away from these people who only saw him as an object to ogle and grope. He stared at the tablet and his optics shifted to Magnus’ expression. Not uncaring, not strict, not angry…determined. Primus, when was the last time someone was looking out for him?

“The ones that did this will be taken to court, fined, and locked away to serve their sentence. But I can’t do anything unless someone tells me otherwise. Since this very cycle, I have sent paired enforcers to investigate and we have already shut down ten Houses. Many more continue to run because of those that refuse to tell us of their working conditions.”

He could get out of here if he told him the truth. He licked his lips and forced himself to watch Magnus’ face and not the door. Someone could be outside listening. There could be a device in this very room listening to make sure Hot Rod didn’t say something stupid.

“You, and those around you, can leave here if you are being forced to do indecent things you don’t want to do. This will be my final question and I will mark this House for a follow up for an inspector unless you are honest with me.”

The sincerity in his voice made him want to confess everything. Hot Rod chewed his lower lip and hugged himself tighter, staring up at the enforcers face as if he wasn’t desperate and terrified.

Ultra Magnus gave him several long, agonizing seconds and softly repeated: “Are you happy here?”

Rodimus nearly broke. “No. Please shut this place down they don’t care about us at all. I’m not happy here I never was, here or at the other Houses they shipped me to. They give us coding that prevents us from saying certain things and they don’t care what we want. They force us to interface and punish us if we don’t want to. They don’t care if they hurt us or make us feel like we’re nothing. I hate this place and I hate  _ them _ ! Get me out of here—get me out of here— _ get me out of _ —”

But all Hot Rod said was, “Yes. I am happy.”

The words tasted sour and rancid. They made his tanks cramp but he kept his face blank and peered off to the side and away from the slight dimming glow of his optics. It hurt. Hot Rod’s spark felt like it was fading right then and there. He could apologize and confess. He could tell Ultra Magnus every shady deal and cruelty they inflicted on him and others. He could end all of this now and take everyone down with him.

His vocalizer clicked and he turned back to face Magnus, who hadn’t moved an inch. He could still say something – he was still here – there was still time – the slave coding buzzed in disapproval and kept his lips sealed. Rodimus, sensing no other way around it now, lowered his gaze to the floor and shrugged.

“All right.” Ultra Magnus sighed softly, returning the datapad back to his subspace. “I want to thank you for your time.” He dipped his head in thanks and Hot Rod quickly scrambled to his feet. “If there is anything unjust happening to you or to those working alongside you please contact your local enforcer. Your happiness and well-being are our priority. Sentinel Prime has heard about the abuse among workers and slaves and wishes to ensure all are treated properly despite their class and ranking.”

Hot Rod didn’t know how much he believed that  _ Sentinel Prime _ cared about any of them but the soothing wash of Ultra’s EM field over him made him think Magnus was honest. Sentinel Prime himself had a few concubines and Hot Rod assumed he treated them nicely if their flashy waxes and bright smiles were anything to go by. Then again, he would know first-hand how looks could be deceiving.

“Thank you again for your time.”

Hot Rod walked behind him back downstairs and to the door as a guide but mostly to drink in the peace and protection he felt knowing Ultra Magnus was here for him. Currently he was the strongest in the House. Not even his own boss argued with him and what Hot Rod wouldn’t do to have even a fraction of that authority…

And then he was gone. Out of the House and onto the streets where he transformed and drove off. Lacking the blanket of a comforting field around him left him feeling lonely. The other entertainers – the slaves and shareware he worked with – cared about him but they had to. There was a sense of unity they had that kept them sane. They were each other’s pillars of strength and whistleblowers for the cruelest of customers and threats that lurked inside the walls.

But, for a fleeting moment someone he had no affiliation with cared about his wellbeing and it reminded Hot Rod of how badly he needed to get out of here. To earn credits to buy his freedom and save up for his future.

“Hot Rod.” The wretchedly familiar crow of his boss’ voice called out to him from behind. “We need to talk.”

Forcing himself back into the stuffy warmth of the House, he pulled the heavy doors shut behind him and spun his vents. He could make it through this.

Rodimus was, above all else, a survivor.


End file.
